


Brand New Sky

by Narya (Narya_Flame), Narya_Flame



Series: The Wanderer [12]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction, Male Friendship, Reconciliation, References to Depression, References to Drugs, References to Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya_Flame
Summary: A gapfiller for my ficThe Ways of Paradox.  Theo and Harrison go for a run and clear the air.
Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Male Character
Series: The Wanderer [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133342
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Brand New Sky

**Author's Note:**

> In Chapter 21 of _Paradox_ , it's mentioned that Theo and Harrison go off for a run the morning after Theo's first counselling session and come back with suspiciously red eyes, but since that fic is entirely told from Claire's POV we don't hear any more about it. This piece gives us a look at what went on.
> 
> This is really Silmfic by association only; there's only one brief allusion to Maglor, and it won't make a lot of sense without the context of the longer fic.
> 
> Title taken from the Foo Fighters song 'Times Like These'.

Perhaps the run hadn't been a good idea after all, Theo thought. He doubled over, breathing deeply, his heart hammering in his throat. A cool tang still laced the northern spring air, but beyond the cathedral's shade the sun burned fiercely. Sweat crept over his scalp and slid down his nose.

“OK, bud?”

Theo pushed his hair out of his eyes and straightened up, leaning on the protective railing around the harbour. “Yeah. Out of practice.”

Harrison nodded. His t-shirt was damp but his breathing was no heavier than usual. “Want to sit down for a bit?”

“What do I look like, your grandmother?” Theo snapped.

His friend's eyebrows shot up. “No, you still look like you. Just knackered.”

Theo winced. “Sorry.” 

Harrison shrugged, stretched, and sat down on a nearby bench. After a moment's hesitation, Theo joined him. His heart battered his rib cage, and the muscles in his legs felt like jelly that hadn't yet set. He glanced at Harrison, who was staring at the waves lapping the pier. It seemed like a lifetime since they'd jumped off it together on that dark, clammy morning in November, daring each other on, so convinced of their own invulnerability that the foolishness of their actions hadn't even crossed their minds.

He shivered.

“Chilly?” Harrison asked.

“No.” That wasn't entirely true. The memory of hauling Harrison out of the water crept through his bones like sea-fog, and his breath turned cold in his lungs.

Harrison's mouth lifted at the corner, eyes returning to the pier. It wasn't quite a smile. “You've got to wonder what we were thinking.”

“I don't think we _were_ thinking.”

A soft snort. Theo waited for more, but Harrison seemed to have retreated into his own thoughts. Instead Theo closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the sun's rays soak into his skin as his breathing returned to normal and his heart rate slowed.

“How did it go yesterday?”

He opened one eye, startled by the direct question.

“You don't have to tell me about it.” Harrison's cheeks were flushed, and Theo didn't think it was entirely down to their run. “I know it's probably hard – not that I've ever done anything like that. But if you did want to talk about it, I don't want you to feel like you can't.”

Theo nodded. “Thanks. It was...” He stopped. He'd been about to say “fine” and change the subject, but Harrison could almost always tell when someone was lying. “It was tough,” he admitted. “But Annie – the counsellor – she's really nice. Actually she didn't say much at all.” That, more than anything, had been a surprise. There had been no judgements, no rush to interpret or advise, no uncomfortable questions, no nudging him towards anything he hadn't wanted to go near. “We didn't really talk about what happened.” But it had sat there, watchful and heavy, hiding in the spaces between his words. Now, again, he turned away from it. “Not yet. It was only the first session,” he added belatedly, realising that Harrison might think he wasn't taking the counselling seriously if he was avoiding the difficult topics.

But his friend gave a one-shouldered shrug. “They're the experts.” Another crooked not-quite-smile. “And it's not up to me what you talk about.”

From its perch on the lobster pots, a seagull shrieked. Theo wondered whether Jeoffry the cat had managed to catch one yet. “I'm glad Rosie went with me.” He coloured up as he said it, worried that Harrison would take this as a resentful swipe for not offering to go too. “Not that she sat with me for the session. But afterwards. It was good to have a coffee together and just...talk.”

“I'm glad.” Harrison sounded sincere. “How are things with you guys now?”

“Fine.” And this time he did mean it. His blush deepened as he thought of Rosie's birthday party, and what had happened in Ma Bell's – but he'd apologised for that, and Rosie hadn't brought it up again. Instead, after his appointment she had sat with him in Taste, and she had gently and easily filled his silences with chatter about her research project, her family, and the cast and crew of _Les Misérables_. “Rosie and I...I think we're OK.”

“Good.”

The smell of chips in hot oil drifted from the food van by the footbridge. The man behind the counter whistled along to The Kooks as he worked, out of tune and off the beat. Theo chewed at his lip, debating, and eventually asked, “What about us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are we OK?” He felt stupid – needy, childish, even rude – pressing it like this. There were times when they would smile together, or share a brief bantering exchange, and it would feel like things were almost back to normal – but most of the time it seemed an invisible guard-wire separated him from his best friend. It warned him against any careless approaches, and he knew that if he touched it at the wrong time or in the wrong way, he would be jolted sharply back.

Harrison's brow creased, and his gaze returned to the sea.

“I'm sorry. I know it's -”

“Do you have any idea how frightened I was?”

Theo's stomach turned cold and folded inwards. Harrison's voice was collected, even calm, but Theo know that was his stage training. The set of his friend's shoulders, the odd straight stiffness of his neck, the controlled neutrality of his tone, all gave away the tight rein he was keeping on himself. “I'm sorry.”

“So you keep saying.” Harrison exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Seriously, though. That wasn't a rhetorical question. Can you imagine what it was like? I'm not just talking about the night on Hope Street; I mean all the weeks before, when we could see you were an absolute bloody mess, and you wouldn't speak to any of us or let us near you.”

A nauseous prickling crept through Theo's limbs, the way it always had when he and Seb and Byrdie had been caught in the middle of some ill-advised scheme at school. “I...” Again he bit his lip. There was no right answer. To say he could imagine it would be insincere; to say he couldn't seemed unbearably callous. “I hadn't thought.” Heat bloomed in his cheeks again. A weasel's answer. He swallowed and crossed his arms, ashamed.

Disappointment settled in Harrison's eyes, though he didn't seem surprised.

“I know you're angry.” Theo tried again.

“No shit.”

“Not just about...” He took a deep breath. He'd avoided using the word, even in his counselling session, not wanting to examine its web of associations – the pathetic mundanity of it; the grubby, seedy images it conjured; the squirming, unbearable guilt; the terror of the roads not taken. “The overdose.” Saying it aloud gave substance to its enormity. His breath caught as it threatened to bear down on him, and once again he pushed it away. “Or even the last few weeks.” He watched Harrison, knowing he was on dangerous ground, but his friend gave nothing away. “You're angry because of Seb and Byrdie, and first year, and the way I was when you came out. You think I should have walked away then.” Another steadying breath. “And you're right.”

For a moment Harrison just stared at him, and then he shook his head and looked away. “Claire told you. I wondered. I did ask her not to.”

“It isn't Claire's fault,” Theo said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to cause a rift between the cousins. “I knew anyway.”

Harrison lifted his eyebrows. “So there's a brain in there after all.”

Theo ignored the jibe. “I know I keep saying it, but I am sorry. I was...” He checked the schoolboy impulse to hunt for excuses. “Never mind. I thought I could have a foot in both camps, and please everybody, and I was wrong.” He paused, but Harrison said nothing. “I don't expect you to tell me it's alright, because I know it's not.”

“Well. It's not as if I ever pushed you about it. I let you think it was alright, and look where we ended up.”

“Don't.” The shadows snatched at him again as Harrison's voice wavered. “None of this is on you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Theo wondered, thinking about Claire's comment that Harrison didn't know who he was most angry with.

In the marina a boat chugged and sputtered and coughed, its engine tired and testy after a winter without use. A man in golf attire and sunglasses edged along the pier's upper walkway, posing for the camera with his thumbs up, while the breeze threatened to lift his cap from his head. Harrison rolled his eyes, then got to his feet. “Walk with me?”

Claire had said that to him as well, just a few short nights ago outside Aikman's, and in just the same way – open, neutral, considered. “Sure.”

They wandered over the footbridge, dodging the seagulls that had gathered around the food van, and scrambled down the dunes onto the sands. Dogs and children scampered through the surf, while groups of students meandered towards the brig, basking in the springtime sun. 

“One question.” Harrison shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why _did_ you stick with them – Seb and Byrdie – if you knew what they thought, and you weren't OK with it? And why did you never say anything?”

Theo knew that pointing out that was two questions would do him no favours. Harrison's dark eyes were sharp and intense, and he wondered if this was how Claire had looked, facing down witnesses in court. “I think...” His heart was thudding again; his palms tingled, cold and sticky, and his lungs felt bound with rope. “No, I _know_ I was...frightened.” His throat shrivelled, but he swallowed and pushed on. “I know that sounds pathetic. It is pathetic, really.” He paused, thinking, not wanting to sound like he was making excuses – but Harrison had asked for an explanation, and he owed him as much of the truth as he could unravel. “I didn't have a lot of close friends at school. Seb and Byrdie were it. I know,” he added, catching sight of Harrison's face. “Not great friends, as it turned out, but I was away from home and it was better than nothing.” Even so, the old wounds stung again – the seemingly random days and weeks when they had pretended he didn't exist; the stolen flute; the times they had run away and left him to take the blame for their latest prank gone awry. “I hated the idea of being on my own. There are all those books about boarding school that make it sound so jolly, but it's...” Horrified, he felt his voice wobble, and he breathed in carefully. “Even at thirteen, it's terrifying. I was alright in the end, of course; most of us are. But I was homesick, and I was scared, and everyone except me seemed to know what they were doing.” He gave an apologetic laugh. “Sorry. I'm rambling. But the point is, once I had a – a safety net, if you like, I clung to it. And I didn't want to let it go, even after I came here. Even after I met you. The thought of standing up to them, even when I knew they were wrong...I couldn't do it.” He laughed again, bitterly this time, and pushed his hair back. “That's awful, I know. It was selfish, and stupid, but that's why.”

Harrison pursed his lips and blew slowly outwards.

Theo turned away. He knew that there was more he _could_ have said, but Harrison had wanted an explanation, not an entire childhood memoir. Instead he watched a large, fat spaniel snuffling about in the seaweed. He thought of his own dog, Pongo, and felt a sudden fierce longing for – what? Home? He hadn't wanted to go back to Bramley when his parents had offered to come and collect him. He still didn't. God knows what he wanted. He pressed his lips together and blinked back the beginnings of tears.

“Yes.”

He looked back at Harrison. “Yes what?”

“Yes, we're OK.” Harrison's mouth curved upwards, but his eyes were still serious. “Just promise me no repeats.”

“You sound like my mother.” The words were out of his mouth before he'd even noticed himself thinking them. He bit his tongue.

“ _Theo._ ” A warning. “Please. I mean it.”

And suddenly he saw – really saw. Something in Harrison's voice caught like a key in a lock and sent his defences tumbling; behind the dark eyes Theo saw fear, and the scars of an endless night spent waiting, and the hurt of being placed second to a pair of playground bullies. Tears choked his throat, and he nodded. “I promise.” Another shuddering breath. “Shit...” He felt as though he'd been picking his way across planks strewn over sinking sand, and had somehow by unbelievable good luck found his way back to the path. The sheer bloody relief of it collided sharply and horribly with the terror he had tried to push aside, the hulking weight of what might have been – and then he felt Harrison's hands on his shoulders, and he sobbed like a child and leaned against his friend, dimly aware that he must look ridiculous and yet no longer caring at all.

“You're OK.” Harrison's deep, northern voice was gentle. “You're OK.”

It was like a storm – overwhelming, but cleansing and soothing, and when it was over it was as though a curtain of cloud had been drawn aside, and they both sank into the sand, laughing a little, faintly embarrassed. Theo pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, realising as he did so that Harrison's own eyes were too bright.

“Better?” his friend asked. 

“Yeah.” He scrubbed at the damp patch on his cheek, and winced as grains of sand scratched his skin. “Ow.”

Harrison laughed properly this time. “You're such an idiot.” 

But his voice was full of affection. Theo knew him well enough to recognise that. 

“And actually...” Harrison threw him a sidelong look. “I know you've taken the brunt of it, but you're not the only reason I've been kind of on edge.”

Theo drew his knees up. “No?”

“No.” Harrison swallowed. “It's Claire.”

“What about her?”

Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose. His inward breath was ragged and sharp. “When we found out about Mark...and he said he was going to leave...” It was his turn now to blink back tears. “Claire was going to leave too.” His voice broke. “Fuck...I thought I'd got my head around this...”

“It's OK.” Theo wished he sounded half as convincing as Harrison when he said it. 

“I couldn't lose her, Theo, I couldn't bear it...”

“You wouldn't. Don't talk nonsense. Claire would never leave you.”

A humourless laugh. “You didn't see what London did to her. Jesus, when I saw her that first Christmas after she resigned...I knew it was bad, I could tell she was hiding things, but I really think...I think she thought about...”

Theo might not have seen Claire that Christmas, but he remembered meeting her in Edinburgh not long afterwards; he'd seen how close to the edge she was, and he'd watched her uncoil over that winter weekend in St Andrews, opening up to her cousin, getting to know him and Rosie, falling in love with the town. He knew it had been a near thing. “That's different. She wouldn't just disappear. You heard what Mark said; he'd have had to completely cut contact. Claire would never do that. You're too important to her.”

Harrison smiled sadly. 

“And anyway, it doesn't matter now. They're both staying.”

“Thank Christ.” 

Hesitantly, still half-expecting rejection, Theo put an arm around his friend, and was surprised when Harrison rested his head against his shoulder. He was even more surprised by the snort of laughter that followed. “Is this a thing we do now?” Harrison asked. “The hugging?”

“Apparently it is.” Theo decided to risk a little teasing. “As long as you're sure Luc won't mind.”

Harrison snorted again. “I hate to say it, bud, but you're not my type.”

They both cracked up at that, laughing loudly enough to attract puzzled looks from a pair of toddlers collecting shells nearby.

“Come on.” Theo gave Harrison a playful shove. “The girls will be sending a search party if we're not back soon. Race you home?”

“Sure you can manage it?”

Theo grinned. “Oh, just watch me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Theo and Claire's first meeting is depicted (from Claire's POV) in 'Grace Notes'.


End file.
